


Supplemental Discipline

by MissNaya



Category: DCU
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, Discipline, Embarrassment, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Spanking, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: While training under Deathstroke, Jason learns a valuable lesson about patience.





	Supplemental Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> this time I was commissioned for something with Jason as Slade's apprentice, which is awesome, because [I drew just that](http://nayart.tumblr.com/post/166981624371/sladerobin-week-day-7-switching-sides-witching) for SladeRobin Week!
> 
> I didn't tag it as underage because the timeline is kinda dubious. you can either read this with Jason as an older teen, or assume he joined up with Slade as an adult. I didn't have a specific age in mind for this, so CYOA.

“I’m bored, old man.”

The complaint comes from up above Slade, where Jason sits on top of a piece of equipment in their personal gym. Arms crossed, legs kicking back and forth, he looks every bit like the brat he is.

“Not my problem,” Slade answers.

Jason jumps down and lands in front of him. Unlike Dick Grayson, he doesn’t bother to flip or somersault or fancy up his descent at all; ever since he left Batman, he’s been trying noticeably to distance himself from the Robin legacy, right down to the body language. He saunters up to Slade, shoulders back, posture straight, like that might somehow make him tall enough to intimidate his new mentor.

“I’m sick of doing all these useless drills and warm-ups. You said you’d train me, so  _ do _ it,” he says. He stares Slade straight in the eye, a wrinkle in his nose. “I’m not a beginner, you know. Batman taught me all the basics already.”

Slade shoulders past him without a second glance. (The boy  _ has  _ gotten a bit taller, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with him when he passes, but he’s still hardly more than an overgrown pup as far as he’s concerned.)

“The fact that you think they’re useless just proves you’re not ready,” he says.

He hears Jason huff right before it’s covered up by a scramble of feet stomping to catch up with him. “Don’t just walk away from me—!”

Jason puts a hand on his arm to spin him around. Slade allows it, only so Jason can see his glare when he snatches him up by the wrist. Hard.

“Boy,” he starts, tone a measured sort of dangerous. He presses his thumb between the two bones in Jason’s forearm hard enough to make the kid’s knees buckle. “If you think you can walk into my life and try to order me around, you are sorely mistaken.”

Jason, knees bent and back hunched to try and ease up some of the pain, can only flap his mouth open and shut like a fish out of water. Slade lets him suffer for a moment more, then releases him with a flourish. Jason immediately stumbles back a few steps and rubs at his sore wrist.

Most days, that’d be enough. Slade considers himself a very busy man, and if he took the time to lecture every single person who got on his nerves, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done. But he  _ did _ promise to take Jason on as his apprentice, so he figures he owes it to him.

“...Actually,” he says, “I think I’ve got something a little more substantial to teach you today.”

Jason eyes him warily, but, to his credit, he straightens his back and tries to disguise some of the pain decorating his features. “Yeah…?”

Slade grunts, crossing the room with the expectation that Jason will follow. It takes him a few seconds, but then he hears the patter of his feet jogging to keep up. He doesn’t look back until he’s seated on one of the benches against the far wall. Legs spread in a relaxed way, he leans back and pats his lap.

Jason just stares. Slade waits for about five seconds, then rolls his eye and yanks on his sore wrist.

“What are you—?!”

“There.” It’s easy to force the kid into his lap, bent across his knees with his ass sticking up. “Clearly you’re not good at piecing things together on your own, so lemme spell it out for you: the name of the game is discipline.”

Jason peeks back at him, already flushed. He tries to push himself upright, but Slade keeps him pinned with a broad hand between his shoulders.

“This isn’t funny,” he says, kicking his legs uselessly. “Lemme up, old man!”

“You think I’m trying to be funny?”

Slade’s tone is sharp enough to make Jason go limp, save for one small hand that grips his pant leg tight.

“If you want to be worth a damn to anyone, you need to know how to keep yourself under control,” he says after a moment of silence. “No matter how boring the job, or how great you  _ think _ you are. You think you’ve got it all down pat, you slip up, you die. Understand?”

Jason squirms underneath him, the fire suddenly gone from his voice. “Yeah, yeah…”

“I don’t think you do,” Slade says. “But tell you what. You listen to everything I’m about to say, do everything I tell you to do, and maybe I don’t re-think taking you on as a partner. If you can’t handle that, you aren’t worth my time.”

“...Okay.” Jason hangs his head, back tense under Slade’s hand. “I’ll do whatever you want, just— just don’t kick me out.”

The kid is clearly in need of a place in the world, of someone to be proud of him. It’d be sad if Slade were the sad sack type.

But he’s not. So he just yanks Jason’s sweatpants down under his ass, and slaps his bare skin with one abrupt, deafening  _ thwack. _

Jason yelps, practically jumping out of his skin, rocking forward and nearly toppling out of his lap. Slade has to fist his hand in his shirt to yank him back into place.

“What the— W-what the fuck was that, Slade?!”

“Language.” Slade slaps him a second time, and Jason starts up again kicking his legs back and forth. “Oh, would you stop? My boys would get the belt, and even they were less whiny than this.”

“You’re…  _ spanking _ me!” Jason says, as if he can hardly fathom it. Slade wonders if this is the first time he’s been hit that way. “I-I’m not your— I’m your  _ partner, _ not…!”

“Aw. And here I thought all that ‘old man’ talk meant you thought of me as a father figure,” Slade says, not short on sarcasm. “I’m only giving you what it seems like you need.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jason says. Slade takes note of the particular breathless quality of his voice. “Shit, wait…”

Slade quirks a brow. “Done already? That didn’t last long…”

Jason tenses up even more, the implication hitting him like a physical thing. He shivers, frozen in the middle of pulling his pants up.

“I-I…” He gulps. Slowly, unsteadily, he pushes the fabric back down. “D-do… whatever y-you need to do.”

Slade almost smiles.

“Good boy. We’ll do twenty. No more whining; you can take it.” Jason says nothing, so he prompts him, “‘Yes, Sir.’”

“Yes, Sir,” Jason parrots, nearly whispering. It’s the quietest he’s been in months.

And then Slade starts back up again, going from one cheek to the other, smacking Jason’s ass in a way that could never be described as gentle. He could be a lot rougher, that’s for sure, but the way Jason claws at his leg and trembles on his lap, obediently biting his lips, makes Slade take pity on him just a bit.

By the time he nears twenty, Jason’s ass is bright red, bearing several distinct handprints. His back has curved into a tight arch, and he’s untucked Slade’s pant leg from his boot with how tightly he clings to it. But, impressively — aside from a few gasps — Jason has managed to keep himself near-perfectly silent.

There may be hope for him yet.

“Alright,” Slade says after spank number twenty. “That’s it. Up.”

Surprisingly, Jason doesn’t scramble to get out of his lap as fast as possible. On the contrary, he stays there, bent over, completely still save for his trembling.

“I-I…” he says, voice about as tight as the muscles in his back. “Wait…”

Slade raises an eyebrow. “Get up, kid. You’re done.”

“Ju-just gimme— a second,” Jason says through tiny gasps.

“It doesn’t hurt  _ that _ bad,” Slade says. Ignoring Jason’s hurried protests, he grabs him by the shoulder and forces him up. “Don’t be a—”

Jason scrambles to cover himself, but it’s too late. Slade’s already seen his cock, standing straight and hard between his legs.

“...Oh.”

“I don’t— I don’t know why— Oh, fuck,” Jason says. He screws his teary eyes shut, face an ugly, blotchy red. “I’m, I’m sorry, Slade— S-Sir— I—”

Slade slips a hand from Jason’s shoulder to his mouth. His wide palm cuts off any more babbling.

“On your knees, son.”

He says it as a reflex, a verbal quirk, but he doesn’t miss the way Jason’s eyes go wide. Call him crazy, but it almost seems like the boy starts to radiate the same energy as he did back when Slade mentioned being a father figure to him. The realization gets him hard quicker than any of Jason’s struggling.

He chooses not to analyze what that says about him.

Slowly, Jason lowers himself to the ground, holding onto Slade’s knees for purchase. Slade only releases his mouth once he’s settled between his legs.

“Slade…”

“You still willing to do whatever I say?” Slade asks. He tucks a strand of hair behind Jason’s ear, though his expression is anything but tender.

Jason, mouth hanging agape, just nods.

“Good.” Slade settles back and hooks his thumbs under his waistband, pushing down his sweats to reveal his hardened cock. Lazily, he grips it between his thumb and forefinger, tugging the foreskin away from the head. “Suck it.”

He swears, he can  _ see  _ Jason’s mouth start to water. The kid wastes no time, leaning forward to close his lips over the head. So much for being bashful. When Jason starts to bob up and down, it’s in a fast, inexperienced way, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for with enthusiasm.

Slade spreads his legs a little wider, sinking down lower on the bench. Jason, despite his efforts, hardly makes it to the center point of his shaft on every downswing.

“You can do better than that,” Slade grunts. He urges Jason on with a hand on the back of his head, never letting him rock back too far. “Relax your throat. Open wider. And watch the  _ teeth, _ fuck’s sake…”

He feels Jason attempt to follow his directions, but the increase in spit dripping down Slade’s cock tells him Jason’s body is trying to reject the invasion. He pushes him anyway, deeper and deeper, rocking his cock up in shallow little thrusts until he hears Jason start to gag.

“Hold it,” he says. “Got another inch or two to go. Take it,  _ take _ it…”

In retrospect, it’s too much, too fast. Slade is used to more experienced partners, but Jason’s probably never sucked a dick in his life. Rather than relaxing like he’s supposed to, he full-on gags, his whole body lurching. Slade lets him go just in time for him to splatter the floor with a few throatfuls of thick, mucus-like saliva. Strings of it connect Jason’s heaving mouth to Slade’s cock.

“Jesus, kid.”

Slade’s never been known to be particularly sympathetic in the best of times; less so when lust is broiling in his stomach, like now. He sits up, grabbing Jason by the hair so he can rub his spit-slick cockhead over his cheek.

Jason starts to say something that sounds like a swear, but cuts himself off at the last moment, pursing his lips to press them against the side of Slade’s cock. Something in him sparks at that moment, the same something that endeared him to Slade in the first place. It’s a brand of determination one only sees in people with a hell of a lot to prove, the kind that dulls pain and pushes rational thought out the window. Slade knows it well.

Brows creased, Jason opens his mouth, allowing Slade to slide back in. Though tears gather on his lashes, he works double-time trying to take Slade to the base. Slade’s happy to help out, thrusting his hips with more force. The extra lubrication helps, bubbling up around Jason’s lips and making obscene, wet slapping noises that only serve to spur the both of them on.

Slade braces one hand against the bench and holds the other against the back of Jason’s head. Jason scratches at the insides of his thighs, but doesn’t try to push away. His spit drips down his chin and Slade’s balls, shining in an obscene trail on his cheek where Slade’s cock was moments before.

“All the way down, kid,” Slade murmurs, getting closer to the edge with every passing second. And then, acting on some sudden, strange instinct, he says, “Make daddy proud.”

Jason’s eyes shoot open and roll into the back of his head. He can’t make much noise, but Slade can feel the vibrations of his moans around his cock. It gives Slade the perfect opportunity to slide unobstructed into his throat, until Jason’s nose presses flush against the dense hair surrounding the base.

“When I come,” Slade says, struggling with every word to keep his tone even, “you drink down every drop. Don’t you dare spill.”

It’s a command, not a request, and they both know it. Slade pulls back just long enough for Jason to breathe with a flare of his nostrils. The only verbal response he gets is a drawn-out moan.

He starts to thrust again, faster, noting how Jason goes limp under his touch. It makes his throat looser and his head easier to move back and forth (though the rocking of his hips makes what Jason does with his head kind of moot). Jason only moves enough to suck Slade sloppily, whenever he has enough air to do so.

What finally plunges him over the edge is the way Jason  _ looks _ at him, though. Those eyes, so intense, so glazed-over with lust like Jason can’t imagine ever needing anyone else to get off, tears pouring down his shiny red face… Even for someone with Slade’s self-control, it’s too much. His only warning is an uncharacteristically loud grunt, and then his cock is pulsating, Jason’s frantic throat working to swallow the thick ropes of cum that squirt out. God, he feels like he’s being milked, it’s so tight.

He stays buried like that until Jason’s eyes start to lose focus. When he pulls out, some of his cum leaks out of Jason’s mouth. Jason doubles over, coughing, and Slade is about to reprimand him, but then… Then Jason, still struggling to catch his breath, bends down and licks it off the floor.

“Oh, hell.”

Slade leans back, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. He stays like that until he hears a quick, wet slapping sound coming from the floor by his feet.

“Ah-ah,” he chides, sitting up and snatching Jason’s hand away from his leaking prick. Jason tries to stutter out a protest, but Slade presses a heavy finger to his lips. “Discipline, remember? You don’t get to touch yourself without my say-so.”

Jason nearly pouts, brow furrowed, shoulders slumped. It’s enough to distract Slade from the devious glint in his eye.

He turns, pressing a slow, leisurely kiss to Slade’s finger. Immediately, Slade feels like he could go a second round. Jason sighs against his skin, then glances up at him out of the corners of his half-lidded eyes.

“If you say so,” he breathes, “ _ daddy. _ ”

Slade thinks he can learn to love this partnership after all.

**Author's Note:**

> my art tumblr is linked above, but my main blog is [here!](https://dicktofen.tumblr.com/)


End file.
